


A Good Friend

by jacksonwangsthighs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Unrequited Love, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7713424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonwangsthighs/pseuds/jacksonwangsthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru is a horrible person, but a very good friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Friend

**Author's Note:**

> this sucks because I wrote it to get out of writers block it has like zero value lmao please don't judge me because of this

Oikawa doesn’t know what he’s going to say during his speech tomorrow. He should. It’s pathetic that he doesn’t because he’s been Iwaizumi’s best friend his whole life, but he doesn’t even had a single word on the paper in front of him. The hand clutching his pen has gone white and he knows that his face is pale. There’s too much that it is too late to say, too much that he can’t say because as horrible as his personality is, he’s not going to crash a wedding. He’s not that bitter. 

No, that’s wrong. He’s certainly that bitter, but he won’t because he knows Iwaizumi would never forgive him. He daydreams, sometimes, of them still ending up together- A divorce, perhaps, in which Oikawa gets to be the wonderful friend who comforts Iwaizumi and is there for him through thick and thin, and he realizes that hey, maybe he’s not straight and then they end up together and- 

And, no. He can’t entertain such silly notions. Tomorrow, he’ll stand next to his truest friend and watch him marry the woman he loves, because that’s how it should be. How it has to be. 

The hand wrapped around his pen begins to cramp, drawing him out of his trance. He slams it down maybe a little too hard, digs his cell phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t know who he wants to call. Not any of his close friends because he knows it would get around to Iwaizumi and he can’t have that, can’t ruin his day. He’s a good friend. 

He realizes that all of his contacts, all of his sorta-kinda friends are all tied to Iwaizumi in some way. He doesn’t have a single person who isn’t somehow involved in both their lives listed in his contacts. It’s too bad he just bought the phone, because suddenly he wants to hurl it across the room. 

His chest is aching, the same sort of pain it gets when he’s frustrated during a match or in practice, when things aren’t going his way. It feels like he’s not breathing right, and he knows he is, but it just feels wrong. 

Maybe, Oikawa thinks, if he had confessed in middle school, or even high school or college, he could have prevented this. He just assumed there would always be tomorrow, that Iwaizumi would catch on eventually. Surely, he couldn’t always be that dense. 

He was, though. 

Tomorrow would be the last tomorrow, and it would be wasted, just like all the rest. 

-*- 

Oikawa tries not to clench his hands too tight as the bride walks down the aisle. He makes one last light hearted jab about girls with low standards, and watched the way his best friend’s lips twitched upward even as he elbowed him in the side and muttered something about his crappy personality. He tries to smile. 

The reception is okay. He flirts with the maid of honor, not-so-accidentally spills wine on the mother of the bride. The apology is followed by a giggle, which earns him a stern talking to from the groom, and he’s promptly cut off before he’s drunk enough to be giving a speech. 

The speech. The one he never wrote, and stupidly hoped would come to him in a moment of inspiration! He realizes, as he stands on the stage clutching the microphone, that he was wrong. His mouth is dry and it feels like a fine layer of dust has settled on his tongue. Someone clears their throat, so he laughs and grins at the audience, allowing his good looks and charismatic nature to smooth the awkward silence over. It’s a cheap trick, but it’s all he’s got. 

“I’ve known Iwa-Chan forever,” He begins lamely. Forever, and he never got around to telling him that he was in love with him, “He’s been my best friend for that long too,” Might have been more if he weren’t so bad at recognizing that the world wouldn’t wait for him. 

“He’s one of the best people I know. And I’m so happy for him today. Because he’s happy. I just want him to be happy.” He chokes a little on that, he knows he’s getting weird again. He wants him to be happy, it’s not a lie. He just wishes that it could be with him. “And I think he will be, with the lovely woman he married today. So, um. Here’s to them.” 

Everyone seems a little uncertain as they toast, Oikawa with a glass of water because he can get nothing past Iwaizumi. 

Ironic, he thinks. 

“What the hell was that, Oikawa?” 

“I have to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

He doesn’t go to the bathroom. He sits in his car and sobs into the steering wheel, feeling like his chest is tearing apart. The ache is too much for him to bear, it digs into his bones and makes him feel like it will never go away, that he’s cursed to love a man who could never possibly return his feelings. Not after today, not ever. 

Oikawa is a good friend. He should go back into the reception and apologize and dance with the maid of honor, maybe sneak a bit more wine. Get drunk enough to start a cake fight and smear icing all over the bride’s pretty white dress- 

Instead, though, he drives home. To the apartment that used to be theirs, but now all of Iwaizumi’s things are packed up and waiting in a cute little house on the other side of town. He barely makes it inside the door before he collapses. 

He thinks, briefly, of the tomb Antigone was sealed in. They read the play once, and Oikawa had commented that it was just too gruesome for him to be exposed to, that nothing so tragic could ever be relevant to him. 

The sobs don’t seem to subside. He just falls asleep in the middle of one, and doesn’t wake up until the sun is rising. His back aches from passing out in his entryway, and he’s uncomfortably warm inside his suit.

His almost dead phone shows twenty missed calls, but he ignores them, sliding his phone away from his face. Maybe if he just ignores his discomfort he’ll fall asleep again. 

Twenty minutes go by without any luck, and he wonders if maybe this is karma for being such a horrible person. 

A horrible person, but a very good friend.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: truly-gay-fish


End file.
